


Thank You, Orville Redenbacher

by lemonsorbae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:04:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1980540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsorbae/pseuds/lemonsorbae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel just wants some popcorn. He gets Dean instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank You, Orville Redenbacher

**Author's Note:**

  * For [assbuttsinlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/assbuttsinlove/gifts).



> A/N: The happiest of happy birthdays to my darling love, [Laana](http://www.dumplingdean.tumblr.com).  
> Cross posted from [tumblr](http://jimmynovakisaved.tumblr.com/post/92175143399/thank-you-orville-redenbacher).  
> Beta’d by my brother. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Friday afternoon could not have come soon enough.

It has been a less than desirable week with numerous phone calls from Mrs. So-and-So complaining about This-and-That, four overly long meetings with Important Boss Person about the restructuring of their company (which has very little to do with Castiel), and so much interoffice flirting Castiel is certain his eyes can’t roll any more.

When he finally clocks out of his Boring Office Job it’s with barely contained relief ebbing beneath his skin and only one goal in his mind: get home and transform into a couch potato for the rest of the weekend.

He’s not even fully through his front door when he’s loosening his tie, and unbuttoning the top most buttons of his dress shirt, dropping his attaché case on the floor by the door, and toeing off his oxfords.

It feels good to be home and he lets the familiarity of his own four walls comfort him as he pads to his bedroom and strips off his office clothes, changing into a pair of soft, well worn flannels and his old Northwestern t-shirt. There are holes in the neck from being worn so much, but it’s the most comfortable shirt he has and it sets his frayed nerves at ease.

He’s planned for a night in; nothing but Mr. Darcy, and several bags too many of Orville Redenbacher popcorn to keep him company, but when he gets to the cupboard and pulls out the box of popcorn he finds it disappointingly empty.

Really he could forego the popcorn and just watch his movies, his overstuffed couch is calling his name, but spending his weekend popcorn-less just seems wrong. No night of Pride & Prejudice is complete without fingers covered in butter and the lingering taste of salt in one’s mouth.

Castiel dumps the box in the recycling bin and decides against changing out of his pajamas as he slides into the driver’s seat of his Fit. He knows exactly where the popcorn is, he’ll be in and out in less than ten minutes and it’s not as if he’ll run into anyone he knows in such short amount of time, right?

The parking lot is pretty sparse, for which he is grateful, and before he hurries inside he attempts to calm his wild hair that’s been run through one too many times with stressed charged fingers.

Inside Castiel heads straight for the aisle he knows the popcorn to be on, not even bothering to pick up a basket, and avoiding eye contact with other patrons as he goes. The only problem is when he gets to said aisle he finds just one box of popcorn left on the shelves, one single, solitary box and just as he reaches for it, so does a man with freckled hands and a strong jaw line.

"Oh, I’m sorry," Castiel says, pulling his hand away from the box that’s now in the other man’s hands. He glances at the man’s face, takes in his stunning green eyes and the freckles spattered across the bridge of his nose and along his cheek bones and barely keeps himself from sighing in frustration. In a word the man is magnificent; and Castiel is in his ratty old pajamas with hair that resembles a bird’s nest.

"No big deal," Freckles says, flashing an easy grin at Castiel.

Castiel feels his shoulders slump and just as he resigns himself to a weekend void of popcorn, the man holds the box out to him.

"You know what?" he says, "You take it. Looks like you had your heart pretty set on it."

Castiel’s mouth goes dry as he reaches out and just as quickly retracts his hand, deciding against accepting the offer. Who is he to take a stranger’s - no, make that  _gorgeous_ stranger’s - snack food?

Freckles lets his arm fall to his side. “Movie night?” he asks.

Castiel nods.

"Me too," Freckles replies, "my brother was supposed to come over and marathon Deep Space Nine with me, but he bailed for some girl."

Castiel is, in that moment, very grateful he did not take the popcorn. It sounds as if Freckles is just as much in need of it as Castiel felt he was.

"I’m sorry," Castiel offers, feeling awkward in front of the other man. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, or his feet, or even his face for that matter and so instead of figuring it out he stands with a frown furrowed on his features and his hands dangling at his sides.

Freckles shrugs, “It’s cool; I’m used to flying solo.”

Castiel nods, unsure of what a proper response would be. The other man is still smiling at him, his eyes flashing in the cheap, florescent lighting of the grocery store and Castiel thinks he should probably smile back, but has nothing particular to smile about so he doesn’t.

"What about you?" Freckles finally prods. "You got a hot date tonight, or a hoppin’ pajama party to go to, or something?"

Castiel’s cheeks heat at the fact that Freckles has in fact noticed his attire, but simply shakes his head in retort and says, “No, just me tonight, but nothing as exciting as Deep Space Nine, I’m sure.”

"Hey, are you knocking my show?" Freckles asks with a hint of a smirk playing at his lips, indicating he finds Castiel’s comment amusing.

"Considering I’ve never heard of ‘your show,’ no, I am not."

Freckles chokes on air, his eyes practically bulging out of his head as he sputters, “You’ve never- shit. Okay, you know what?  _Pajama Guy?_  How about we share this box of popcorn, my treat, and you come over to my place and allow me to teach you a thing or two about the best television show to ever grace the nineties?”

Castiel worries his bottom lip as he considers the offer. The man may be a complete stranger, but he doesn’t give off that creepy vibe Castiel has learned to pick up on. He’s also very friendly and dashingly attractive and Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennett’s love affair can wait for one more day, right?

Castiel nods his head, “Alright,” he agrees.

The man’s smile grows broad causing little crinkles to form at the corners of his eyes and Castiel can’t help but smile back. “Great,” Freckles says, “you got a piece of paper or a cell phone or something? I’ll give you my address.”

Castiel frowns again, looking down at his pocket-less attire. “No.”

"Of course not," the other man mutters and then he pulls a pen from his pocket and grabs Castiel’s hand. It tickles as he jots it down, but Castiel isn’t the sort to laugh when tickled and so he remains still, like a sentry, until his hand is released out of the warm grasp of the other man’s and he’s able to think clearly again.

"I’ll see you there," Freckles states and Castiel offers him a nod.

"I’m Dean, by the way," the other man offers just as Castiel turns to leave.

There’s a hand on his arm now,  _Dean’s_  hand, and Castiel’s eyes flick down to it before he looks back up at Dean. “Castiel,” he says.

"Cool name, but do you mind if I call you ‘Cas’? That I know I won’t butcher."

"Alright," Castiel agrees because he likes the idea of this man having a nickname for him even though they’ve only known each other all of two minutes.

"Awesome."

Castiel follows Dean to the register to pay and then they’re parting ways in the parking lot and Castiel is stamping down the fluttering in his stomach as he follows the directions Dean sketched on his hand.

Minutes later Castiel finds himself pulling into a respectable apartment complex and killing his car’s engine. He climbs the stairs to Dean’s apartment and just as he wonders if Dean’s already made it home, Dean is ascending the staircase and coming to stand next to him.

Dean’s apartment is small, modest, but with a massive television and a fairly comfortable looking couch.

He drops his keys on the counter and pops a bag of popcorn into the microwave before he tells Castiel to make himself at home and then disappears down a darkened hallway.

Castiel plops himself onto the brown, leather couch, kicking off his moccasins and propping his feet up on the ottoman that rests nearby, casting a glance around the room as he waits. There are books and picture frames all over the place and it makes Castiel feel quite at home.

Soon Dean pads back out to the living room, now dressed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and he shoots a grin at Castiel as he makes his way to the kitchen to retrieve the popcorn. “Thought we could have a pajama party after all,” he states, dumping the popcorn into a large bowl and setting it on the ottoman. He’s got a six pack of beer under one arm and he offers one to Castiel as he settles in next to him.

"You got a curfew, Cas?" Dean asks.

Castiel shakes his head and takes a swig of his beer.

"Good, cause we got a lot of TV to get through in one weekend."

Castiel nods, eyeing the stack of DVDs Dean indicates too, and wonders just what it is he’s gotten himself into.

When Castiel returns to work on Monday morning it’s with a small grin on his face and a ring of hickeys tucked under the neckline of his white, button down shirt.

While Castiel’s weekend did not exactly go as planned - a surprising lack of Jane Austin, and significantly more flying through space than he had anticipated - it was certainly a good one. There were accidental finger brushes in the popcorn bowl and a tentative first kiss that tasted like being a teenager again and Sunday night found Castiel and Dean sharing stories about their childhoods and talking to one another as if they’d known each other for years.

As he settles into his chair and scrolls through the copious amounts of Extremely Urgent E-Mails from Mrs. So-and-So, and Important Boss Person he finds one from Dean. It’s a simple,  _See you this weekend. Can’t wait to find out what this Mr. Darcy dude is all about. ;)_ but as Castiel reads the words, a slight skip in his heartbeat, he can’t help but think to himself,  _Thank you, Orville Redenbacher_ because surely without that man’s popcorn he never would have met Dean.


End file.
